


Unexpected Interaction

by vampgirltish



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: F/M, Sci-Fi, Supernatural - Freeform, Time Travel, i don't want to spoil the surprise so im keeping some things secret, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampgirltish/pseuds/vampgirltish
Summary: You meet a stranger, stark naked and raving like an actor in an old medieval play. You're incredibly confused. What a shame it turned out he took an interest to you... and that he has a very big secret.[Note: This story has been discontinued.]





	

You only had to go grocery shopping. You'd decided to take a chance on a different local shop instead of the one you always went to... You felt adventurous that day... As you walked, you noticed people passing by and looking uncomfortably behind them. What was going on? You kept walking and finally saw what everyone was staring at... or rather,  _ who  _ everyone was staring at. There was a very obviously naked, and very obviously confused man just sitting on the sidewalk, cross-legged, as if he belonged there. You wondered if he was one of those protestors, but faltered your thoughts when he addressed you, "Good day to you, madam! Fare thee well? Pray, do you have any means of getting me to your nearest Postmaster's Building?"

This guy was fucking crazy...

When you didn’t reply, he stood up and--oh god, he really was stark naked. He spoke to you again, “Madam, I implore you. I only need a few moments of your time in order for me to get directions. Pray, I will only take but another moment...”

Looking at him from the chest up--you didn’t dare go any lower--he was... kind of cute. But being naked in public was weird. And probably something that could get him arrested. You pulled your jacket off your shoulders and handed it to him. Luckily you’d chosen to wear a long coat today so it at least would cover him up. “Put this on, and stop talking.”

“Madam, I appreciate your kindness, however, I--”

“Shh!” you said quickly. “Come on.” When he didn’t move and was focused on putting on the jacket, you let him tie the tie around his waist before pulling him. “I have to get groceries, but then we’re going to find you some clothes and we’ll go find whatever nuthouse you came from.”

He looked at you, completely dazed, starting to speak but quieting when he remembered your previous command. He was at a complete loss. You didn’t say anything, just told him to keep his hand on the cart and not move away from you. He had to ask what you meant, and you placed his hand on the cart and told him to stay. It felt like you were training a dog.

Eventually the groceries get bought, you take him to the local thrift store and find him a pair of jeans and a ratty old t-shirt. He put them on and you took your jacket back, paying for the clothes. Then, stopping in your car, which he was fascinated with, in the parking lot, you turn to him, “So, where am I supposed to take you? Metropolitan, Gateways, or Atascadero?” If it was the third option, you’d have to send him on a bus and hope he found his way back home. 

The man looks confused.

“Okay, fine. We’ll try this a different way. What’s your full name?”

The man opens his mouth, but falters, then closes his mouth.

What the hell was wrong with this guy?

But he answers your question a second later, “Leigh Daniel Avidan, aged thirty-seven, from Glendale, California. Originally from New Jersey. Parents Avi and Deborah Avidan. Sister Dana Avidan-Cohn.” He kept going on and on, finally saying a street address.

You stopped him, “Wait. What was that?”

“Four two three six Bayberry Drive, Glendale, California 91201. United States.”

You tapped that address into your phone and drove to there. It was a little suburban house. You got out and led him to the door, knocking. “Hello? Anyone home?” When there was no reply, you lifted the corner of the welcome mat to find a spare key. Thank goodness. You unlocked the door, pushing him inside before replacing the key and then locking the door behind you as you went inside too.

“Madam, might you be able to take me to the nearest Postmaster’s Building?”

“Why do you need to go to the post office?” you asked.

He looked confused but shook his head, “The Postmaster should have the newest information and I am in need of it to contact a fellow friend. Pray, madam, I simply need it.”

Newest information?

“Do you mean a phone book?”

“...Phone... book?” he asks. “I simply need a directory, which the postmaster must have, with addresses that I may go to find my fellow friend.”

You sigh, and tell him to stay again. He plants a hand on the arm of the couch, as if he were back at the store holding onto the cart, and you roll your eyes. You wander around this house that was vacant and incredibly confusing. It looked like it hadn’t been touched since the eighties. You looked and found a phonebook from 1978, and a copy of ‘A Game of Thrones.’ That was the only forms of literature he had in his home. You brought them back to him. Instead of going for the phonebook, he went for the fiction book. He picked it up, flipping through it with his eyes completely closed. Not very much reading to be done. He took the phone book and flipped through it too.

Blinking at you dazedly after he was done, he looks at you with wide eyes, “The year is 1978. Yeah?”

Sudden changes of speech.... This guy must be crazy.

“No, it’s 2016.”

“Woah...” he says slowly. “I was stuck back in 1882 before...”

“Stuck-- Wh-- Wait, what do you mean?”

“Okay... we probably should have a little talk. Take a seat.” You sit down. He sits across from you at an adjacent chair. “There’s no easy way to say this. So... I’m an alien.”

“You’re an...alien?”

Fucking insane. He was batshit insane.

“Yes.” 

“Prove it.” He reaches for the edge of his shirt and you startle, “What the fuck, are you going to probe me or something?!”

“That’s a myth, aliens don’t usually probe people. Only the weird ones.”

“Then if you’re not a weird one, what are you?”

“The ones you’re thinking of are the Greys. I’m not one of those. I’m a Yahyel... or a Shalanaya. Whichever you prefer. We’re actually pretty normal.” He lifts his shirt up, and you can see pale blue markings all over his skin that look almost like they could be words. There’s little lines with shapes on them, triangles and squares on them... It looked almost like a musical staff. “We basically gave Mark Zuckerberg the idea for Facebook... and that one guy the idea for Tumblr. Can never remember his name. I think we did Instagram and MySpace too... Can’t remember. But yeah. We’re pretty into technology and stuff... Games and ideas.” He lets the hem of his shirt drop again and he looks at you. “Do you believe me?”

“Do you have some sort of alien language?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s sort of hard to explain. And it’s... almost impossible for people of Earth to pronounce.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Say something in it.”

“What should I say?”

If the language was so unpronounceable, but he does it with ease, then he couldn’t be lying. “Say, ‘My name is Danny, and I like mammoth azure unicorns that prance in dewy meadows.’”

“Wow, you’re really showing off your vocabulary,” he teases, before pausing for a second. “Translating... Give me a second.” After another pause, he speaks, “Ym mnae si Nadyn, dan I elki mtmmoha uazer ncuriosn hatt parnce ni ywed eamwsod.”

You could see why it was unpronounceable. “Okay. I guess I have to believe you then.”

He smiles. “Cool.”

“So... why exactly are you here? And why did you have to get to a post office so badly?”

“I’m here basically because the others of my kind wanted me and a few others to try to form a basis on Earth. To see if it was liveable and ready for us to make contact with the humans. And I wanted to get to a post office for the exact same reason that you gave me the phone book and that other book. It basically pushed me forward a lot of years until about... 1987 was it? So... to me it feels like 1987. I might go to the post office just to catch up on the rest of the modern slang, so to speak. But... all the new technology that extends beyond computers and the internet is out of my reach. By internet, I mean the actual internet. Like the binary ones and zeroes. I don’t know about anything  _ on _ the internet, just what it’s comprised of... So new toys...trends, stuff like that is confusing to me.”

You nod, just taking all this in. Trying to understand.

“Here, I’ll write down my telephone number for you.”

_ Telephone.... _ This was the 80s after all. You’d have to introduce him to email so it would be faster. You weren’t sure if he’d be too keen to texting so you decided email would be the next step. He found a piece of paper and wrote down his number on there.  _ Oh, right... He doesn’t know about how common mobile phones are... _ You accepted the little piece of paper and promised you’d call him again in a few days. 

As you were leaving his house, getting back into your car with your groceries, you thought about what the hell had just happened. You’d befriended a naked man speaking like he was from the 1800s... and then took him to the address he had said and found out he was an alien. 

...Maybe you should get more sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i need to stop starting stories. help.


End file.
